The Mentor on Fire
by Mustlovebooks12
Summary: Katniss Everdeen, the youngest ever victor, is forced to mentor Peeta Mellark in the 74th Hunger Games. Will she be able to save the boy that she owes not one, but two life debts to? AU. Everlark.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: Hello Everyone and welcome to The Mentor on Fire. Just a few quick words before you read this story. Number one, thank you to Suzanne Collins for her wonderful books that so many of us base our FanFiction on. Obviously all the characters and story lines you recognize are hers. Number two, I know that the original 70th Hunger Games was Annie's year, but for the sake of this story, she won the 69th Hunger Games instead.**

 **Happy Reading!**

 _Katniss screams as the roof of the hut she has sheltered in for the last few days rips off in the torrential winds that have suddenly swept over the arena. This is it, Katniss thinks. The finale._

 _Katniss leaps to her feet and looks over her meagre possessions. A wild dog leg she had been saving for dinner and a small backpack containing a sleeping bag, first aid kit, one litre water bottle and a small knife. She grabs the knife and leaves the rest of it behind, she won't be needing it anymore. Her bow and arrows are already slung over her shoulder as she makes her way out of the hut._

 _The boom of the cannon goes off as debris fly dangerously close to Katniss's head. Just the three of us then Katniss thinks. The strong winds are lessening the closer she gets to the town square of the abandoned village that is their arena._

 _The Cornucopia glints in the distance as Katniss makes her way down a street of rubble and half fallen down shopfronts. Katniss turns the corner and stops suddenly. About ten metres in front of her the two remaining tributes are wrestling on the ground, bright red blood splattered on the dirt and bricks. Katniss holds her breathe, willing herself not to move a single muscle. But it doesn't matter, between the wind and the brutal fighting, the other two tributes are completely oblivious to her presence._

 _Katniss watches as the boy from District Two, Pax, and Zyron, the male tribute from One, throw punch after punch at each other, trying to gain the upper hand as they roll around in the dirt and rubble._

 _Katniss continues to watch the bloody battle in horror, hoping that the boy tributes will somehow be able to finish each other off. They seem far too evenly matched though and the longer she stands there, the more she is at risk of being seen by the boys. She knows what she has to do. Katniss draws her bow, takes a deep breath and watches as her arrow lands squarely in Pax's head._

 _Pax falls back to the ground and Zyron looks wildly around. He spots Katniss standing tall with her bow and laughs._

" _I don't know what I'm more amazed at, that you somehow landed that shot or the fact that you are still alive" Zyron says, pushing Pax's body off of him and standing up with a cocky grin on his face. "In fact, we had forgotten that you even existed"._

" _Not for long though" Zyron says as he charges towards her._

 _Katniss shots an arrow at Zyron's chest but it misses, the arrow lodging in his left bicep. Zyron screams in anger as he tackles Katniss to the ground._

" _I'm going to enjoy watching you die" Zyron snarls, pressing his right forearm down against her throat. Katniss is no match for Zyron in hand to hand to combat. His large, muscled frame easily dwarfs her tiny twelve-year-old body. Zyron is paying little attention to Katniss's exact movements however, assuming he is mere seconds away from winning. He doesn't see her reach up and pull the arrow from where it still lies in his left arm dangling at his side. He looks down just in time to see the tip of the arrow as it spears him straight through the eye. Blood gushing from his eye onto Katniss, Zyron rolls off of her, clutching his face in pain. Katniss takes the opportunity to slip the small knife from her pocket and slit Zyron's throat._

 _The cannon booms._

I wake suddenly, gasping for breath and sweat dripping from my face. Just a dream I think, just a dream. But I swear I can still hear the cannon booming in my head and Claudius Templesmith announcing me, Katniss Everdeen, as the winner of the 70th Hunger Games.

I always dream of my games on reaping day. This will be my fourth-year mentoring and it is yet to get any easier. At least during most of the year I am generally left alone, with just the occasional interview or television special that I am obliged as a victor to participate in. Not during the games though. Every year I am forced to accompany Haymitch and our two tributes to the Capitol, where I am pushed into the spotlight that I hate. As the youngest ever victor of the Hunger games, I doubt the Capitol's fascination with me will die down anytime soon. I am second only to Finnink Odair, the handsome winner of the games five years before me, in popularity.

I look through the gap in my curtains and see the sun just beginning to rise over the hills of District Twelve. Knowing I will never get back to sleep now, I slip out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I splash cold water over my face and look up at my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes look almost purple in the morning light and nearly all my hair has escaped from my braid, probably as I thrashed around during my nightmare. I sigh and quickly redo my braid and brush my teeth. At least I should be able to get a few hours of hunting in before the reaping.

I don't hunt because I have to of course. The winnings from the games are more than enough to keep my family fed and clothed. Initially I kept hunting once I returned to District Twelve as a means of self-defence. I was so close to being choked to death by Zyron in those final seconds of the games. I had one good shot and I missed. I vowed to never let someone who wanted to hurt me get that close ever again. After that I kept hunting to keep myself occupied and sane. Haymitch drinks and I shoot, we all have our coping mechanisms.

I return to the house a couple of hours later to find both Prim and my mother awake and fully dressed. They both look up from the kitchen table as I enter, my game bag only half full.

"Good morning Katniss, would you like some breakfast?" My mother asks quietly, her eyes not quite reaching mine.

"Just tea, please" I answer. I know reaping day is also hard on my mother. Four years ago, my mother still racked with grief over the death of my father, had to watch her eldest daughter being reaped. A twelve-year-old being reaped is essentially a death sentence.

I sit down at the kitchen table next to Prim. She is wearing the same blue dress I wore to my first reaping four years ago.

"Hey there little Duck"

Prim looks up at me, her eyes shining with tears. "Hi Katniss" she whispers softly.

"Prim, you have nothing to worry about, I promise." I try to reassure her, guessing the reason behind her tears.

"But what if I'm picked? You were picked at your first reaping, you can't say it doesn't happen".

"Yes, but I also had three extra slips for the tesserae, something you will never have to do".

I see my mother grow slightly red in the cheeks at my comment. I don't blame her for having to take out the tesserae in my name, we were starving at the time and had very little choice. But I also can't help wondering every now and then if I still would have been picked had I only had one slip in that bowl. Were the odds ever in my favour?

Prim at least, looks slightly cheered up. I can't tell her the real reason I am so sure she won't be picked today. Snow knows that Prim is the key to keeping me in line as a victor. Ever since the incident years ago I have been on my best behaviour, he would have no reason to punish me today. Plus, if she was dead he would lose the only real advantage he has over me, and I'm sure he wouldn't want that.

We clear our dishes and I head upstairs to get changed before we make our way into town for the reaping. It doesn't matter what I wear, my prep team will change it before the reaping anyway. Years of practice (and reluctance and complaining on my part), means my prep team can dress and style me in less than an hour. "If only you'd let us do it properly for once" they always mutter. But I like simple make-up and clothes and they know I have Cinna on my side.

A rush of affection goes through me as I think of Cinna. Seeing him is one of the only things I look forward to when going to the Capitol. He could have easily left for a more prestigious district, but he adamantly refuses to leave his post of District Twelve's stylist. I think he partially feels responsible for me too, as he has continued to dress me since I became a victor.

I will never forget the words he said to me when we first met. How he has never seen a braver twelve-year-old get reaped. How he knew even when I didn't, that I could somehow make it out alive. I told him all about my eight-year-old sister Prim, how I had to win so that she wouldn't starve to death.

Before I know it, I am being led up to the stage by Effie Trinket, the District Twelve escort. Haymitch sits to my left and I try to keep my face calm as Mayor Undersee reads his speech. I don't hear a single word. I know that Prim won't be chosen, but I can't help the anxiety that builds up inside me as Effie walks over to the female tribute's bowl. What if I'm wrong about Snow? What if he has decided to punish me by reaping Prim?

"Willow Kurtz!"

I let out a low sigh, instant relief flooding through me, followed quickly by guilt. I have no idea who Willow Kurtz is, but I'm sure she must have a family who will miss her. Then I see the young girl walking up to the stage from the back of the crowd and I feel worse. She can't be more than twelve, is worryingly skinny and definitely from the Seam.

Willow finally reaches the stage, looking like she might faint at any moment. Perhaps Effie sees this too as she quickly reaches for a slip from the boy tributes bowl.

"Peeta Mellark!"

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Thank you to everyone for all the reviews, favourites and follows. It is a wonderful feeling knowing your story is being read and enjoyed.**

Not him.

I struggle to keep my face impassive as a hundred different thoughts and emotions rush through my mind. Did Snow do this? Is he punishing me after all? No, surely not I think. No one, not even my own family, know anything about the complicated history I share with the boy whose name has just been called.

I was so focused on Prim today that the thought of anyone else I knew being reaped hadn't even crossed my mind. Not that I am very close to many people here in District Twelve but there are definitely a few people I wouldn't want dead. My friend Gale who I hunt with for one. He must have dozens of slips in today's reaping as well. My friend Madge, who I used to sit with when I still went to school, and who I still see regularly due to her father being the Mayor. And him, Peeta.

I try to slow my breathing as he approaches the stage. I know there is at least half a dozen cameras recording me right now and I can't afford to let any of the emotions I am feeling show. I settle on casual indifference instead as Peeta climbs the last steps of the stage.

"Let's give a large round of applause to this year's tributes of District Twelve; Willow Kurtz and Peeta Mellark!" Effie calls enthusiastically to the crowd.

Like every year, there is little response. Some muttering can be heard from the adults at the back of the crowd. No-one likes it when a twelve-year-old is reaped, especially when they look as small and fragile as Willow does right now. I stare down at their faces, some showing thinly veiled disgust, others showing relief that their children haven't been the ones chosen.

Effie waits another few seconds before instructing Peeta and Willow to shake hands. As soon as they're finished I turn sharply on my heel and head straight for the Justice Building. The tributes are given one hour to say goodbye to their friends and families and I plan to spend every second of that time trying to get my emotions in check. Especially before having to face both Peeta and Haymitch on the train.

I know my hour is long up when Effie taps impatiently on the door.

"Katniss dear, the train waits for no-one, not even a victor!" She says, her annoyance at my lateness clear in her voice

I roll my eyes and make my way down to the waiting car that will deliver Haymitch and I to the train. Haymitch is already sitting in the back of the car, a silver hipflask clutched firmly in one hand.

"Pissing Effie off already sweetheart?"

"It's an extra five minutes, I'm sure she'll get over it" I snap at him and climb into the seat next to him.

"And what's got your panties in a twist today?" Haymitch asks, one eyebrow raised mockingly.

"Nothing, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night. With it being Prim's first reaping and all" I reply, most of the venom gone from my voice. I know I won't be able to keep my feelings about Peeta being reaped from Haymitch for very long, but I'm not quite ready to delve into them yet. Mainly because I don't understand them myself.

Haymitch eyes me suspiciously for a second but then nods and takes another swig from his flask. I'm either getting better at lying or Haymitch has decided it's not worth pushing it right now. I suspect it's the latter. Haymitch is the best reader of people I know, and I've never been good at keeping things from him.

We arrive at the train and I make my way to the room I have occupied for the past three years. I sink onto the bed and almost scream in frustration. Of all the possible male tributes in District Twelve, he had to be chosen. The boy that has saved my life not once, but twice. If I wasn't so sure that Snow couldn't know anything about Peeta I would think this was his doing. I think back to the bread incident when we were eleven and how desperate I was. I doubt I would have had the strength to get home had I not been able to smell the warm, rich aroma of the bread from under my shirt.

That bread gave me the strength and hope I needed to survive those cold winter months. I started to hunt and forage for food again, using the knowledge my father had given me before he died. Of course, I wasn't very good at the start, but it was enough to feed my family until I was able to sign up for the tesserae and to survive the games just a few months later.

I didn't even thank Peeta for the bread. I have had plenty of opportunities over the years as well. Although the only time I have ever spoken more than two words to him it was the last thing on either of our minds.

I can't believe I hadn't considered the possibility of mentoring someone I know. The last few years of being a mentor have been awful, but thankfully I hadn't known any of the tributes before they were reaped. Leaving school at age twelve and being socially reclusive does have its advantages. I am angry at myself for being so caught off guard this afternoon at the reaping. If its one thing I pride myself on, it's not showing emotion in public.

The easiest thing to do will be to pretend I don't know him. Treat him like any other tribute from District twelve. He will be Haymitch's tribute anyway, I'm sure I will be far too busy with Willow to spend much time with him at all. I will focus on Willow and Haymitch can be responsible for Peeta. Not exactly convinced with my plan, but happy to at least have something to go on I move to join everyone else in the dining cart.

"Sweetheart! Decided to finally join us, have you?" Haymitch asks sarcastically.

I glare at him as I take the seat next to him and opposite Willow. Like he can talk, he spent the better part of my train journey to the Capitol as a tribute passed out drunk in his room, only emerging when Effie forcibly removed him. He has gotten a lot better since then though. He still drinks of course, but he is rarely drunk. I suspect finally bringing a tribute home and being able to share mentoring duties has helped him. I don't know what I would be like if I had to do this alone. Not for twenty years.

"We were just getting to know our new tributes" Effie says in her sing-song voice, far more excited than anyone else at the table. Willow looks terrified, her head bowed, only looking up from the table when directly spoken to. She has dark hair that desperately needs to be washed, light olive skin and dark eyes. She resembles me far more than my own sister does, something I'm sure won't go unnoticed in the Capitol.

I can see Peeta trying to make eye contact with me from the corner of my eye but I purposefully avoid his gaze.

"Great, what have I missed?" I ask, looking directly at Effie as a train assistant places a plate of food in front of me. It is lamb stew on wild rice, my favourite.

"We have just managed to weasel out of Peeta here that he is a quite the accomplished wrestler!" says Effie brightly, beaming at Peeta.

"Well I wouldn't say that, but I can hold my own" Peeta says modestly flashing a small grin.

"What about you Willow?" I ask gently "What are you good at?"

Willow looks up at me in surprise. "Oh um, nothing really".

"Nonsense dear! Everyone is good at something. What do you like to do at home?" Effie asks her encouragingly

"Well it's just me and my twin brother Ash at home mostly and I spend a lot of time looking after him. He was born with medical problems" Willow says quietly.

"And your parents?" Effie asks. "What do they do?"

"Dad works in the mines, mum died giving birth to me and Ash" Willow replies sadly.

"Well I'm sure you do a splendid job of looking after your brother dear!" Effie says to her after a pause.

I look over at Willow who continues to look down at her food, although seems to be sitting up a little straighter after Effie's last comment. I can't help but to see myself in the young girl, both in looks and in experience. I also know what its like to be responsible for raising a sibling.

"Now that all the pleasantries are out of the way, we can get down to business" Haymitch says as the train assistants serve dessert. "Katniss and I will be your mentors and Effie your escort. You will do exactly as we say and we will do the best we can to get one of you out of the arena alive".

My heart sinks at the words Haymitch has just said, the obvious statement that I have been doing my best to ignore. Only one of them can possibly make it through these games, and that's the best-case scenario. Obviously, I want Peeta to win, I owe him too much not to try to help him survive, but that also means sacrificing Willow to do so.

"Thank you Haymitch. I look forward to learning from you" Peeta says sincerely, holding his hand out for Haymitch to shake.

He drops Haymitch's hand and turns to me. "And Katniss, as the youngest ever tribute to win the games, I'm sure anything you have to teach us will be invaluable" Peeta says with a smile, now holding his hand out to me.

I look down at his hand and back up to his face. His eyes are the brightest blue I have ever seen. His blonde hair has been combed back, but one piece stubbornly falls onto his forehead. The smile on his face is so ridiculously genuine. I see my plan to ignore him and treat him like any other tribute shatter in front of me.

"Believe me, it was almost all luck, I doubt I will be much help to you at all" I say coldly, ignoring his outstretched hand.

"I'm going to bed" I announce, rising from the table and making my way to my room before anyone can stop me.

A couple of hours later I hear a knock on my door.

"Come in" I say, already knowing who it will be and what he wants.

"Wanna tell me what that was all about?" Haymitch asks as he shuts the door behind him. "You've been acting weird all day".

"It's Peeta" I say meekly. "I don't know if I can work with him".

"Because he complimented you?"

"No, because two years ago he was the one who saved my life, and it wasn't even for the first time".


End file.
